


Bring It On

by fabfemmeboy



Series: Sincere Baked Goods [13]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:44:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabfemmeboy/pseuds/fabfemmeboy
Summary: Kurt grabs the limelight, Blaine wants a little something, and Puck contemplates throwing the hobbit off Mount Doom, all in 4 minutes.





	Bring It On

If this was a romantic comedy, it would have been symmetry so perfect that it bordered on contrived.   
  
Well, not quite perfect.  _Perfect_  would have been if it were on Blaine's first day at McKinley instead of a few weeks in, but it was close enough. Singing lead on a Katy Perry song while performing it with the school's resident rock stars while the other one looked on with the rest of the student body?  
  
In fairness, Kurt thought to himself, it wasn't as though he had picked the song. Cheerios wasn't like New Directions where membership got to pick their numbers. It wasn't even like the Warblers with Lynn and the council of three self-important upper-classmen. No; anything done by Five-Time National Champion Cheerios (TM) was selected by one person and one person only: Sue Sylvester.  
  
The song selection wasn't too hard to figure out for anyone who knew the way Coach Sylvester operated. Though the number was for a pep assembly sending the football team off to their state championship game in Cleveland, which would seem to have nothing whatsoever to do with girls in bikinis and short-shorts (as the forecast for game day was 11 degrees not counting wind chill)...Sue Sylvester was very competitive. Yes, the football program was the best it had been in more than a decade, but the highest title they could win was All-State Champions. The Cheerios would be competing for another national title in a few months...in Los Angeles. Nothing like a little nod to her team's superiority. The number might as well have been entitled "Your ring's bigger, but mine was presented live on ESPN."  
  
(And while LA was no New York, in Kurt's mind, it was certainly nothing to sneeze at getting to visit. He was already mapping out the stars on the Walk of Fame he needed to visit and planning the best route to see them all.)  
  
If he'd been in charge of song selection, it would have at least been a song he didn't have to change all the lyrics. And the wigs would not have been a shade of blue that would look fully appropriate in Seussical: The Musical.  
  
In a way it signaled his triumphant return to McKinley; he'd been strutting the halls in his Cheerios uniform almost a week now, but this was a much bigger stage than his French class. Literally. Not that he was nervous - for one thing, Cheerios didn't get nervous. Sue had outlawed it by amendment to the state constitution. For another,  _he_  didn't get nervous performing. He came alive in front of a crowd - adrenaline kicked in, the roar of applause...he wasn't worried about the performance.  
  
He was a little worried about what happened afterward. He wasn't sure why precisely; maybe someone hadn't realized he was there yet and was just waiting to kick his ass, but that was ridiculous - all the usual suspects had already been accounted for.   
  
He was getting up in front of the entire school and singing a girl song. Literally - it was in the name. At Dalton that was expected, almost of a bonus since it required more skill to arrange well for a group of men's voices and therefore was appreciated on technical merit. Back in Lima, on the other hand...  
  
Waiting in the hall while Principal Sylvester berated the student body by way of introduction to the number, Kurt drew in a long, slow breath. Quinn glanced in his direction and gave him a knowing look - like she got it but respected the uniform enough to keep her distance. The red, black, and white really was a shield, but that did mean hiding behind it even around allies. "Just think of the hot boy who'll be staring at your ass in those pants," she suggested with a sly grin.  
  
"Which one?" Santana snorted. Like she was one to talk.  
  
A cheer went up from the bleachers and the lights of the gymnasium dimmed - that was their cue. Three rows of girls in hideous royal blue plastic wigs filed quickly into formation and Kurt did his best to sneak in unnoticed to crouch behind the opening array so he could remain hidden until his part began - the idea was to be heard and seen at the same time for maximum entrance value.  
  
Roaming spotlights criscrossed over the still Cheerios during the opening before the full lights went up and dancing began as Kurt started to [sing](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F57P9C4SAW4).  
  
 _I know a place  
Where the grass is really greener  
Warm, wet and wild  
It must be something in the water._  
  
His female classmates were into the song already by virtue of it being The Song of the year; the guys were into it because there were Cheerios shimmying and thrusting behind Kurt. It didn't matter why - the energy was there regardless.  
  
It would have been more fun with other people, he concluded. The Warblers could arrange the hell out of it, and he'd wrangle Blaine into singing backup for him just to prove he could. Or even if Mercedes were still in Cheerios. Maybe he'd talk to Coach Sylvester about letting Quinn sing on some of the numbers where a second voice for harmony would sound good. After all, he could sing but still looked awkward and had no flip or jump skills; Quinn could be the total package - impeccable form and great vocals.   
  
But there were a lot worse positions to be in at school than this.  
  
 _Sippin' gin and juice  
Laying underneath the palm trees  
Boys break their necks  
Tryin' to creep a little sneak peek_  
  
Puck never minded a pep assembly. For one thing, it meant he got out of class - score. He could totally do no work all afternoon and no teachers would bitch him out for it? What was not to like. For another, assemblies like this basically meant everyone in the school was there to see what a stud he was - okay, fine, how cool his team was. Same thing for his purposes. Status was currency in high school, and every time the school held a mandatory gathering to talk about how awesome they were, it was more direct deposit in his bank.   
  
Third, three words: Hot. Cheerio. Ass.  
  
And unlike walking in the halls, where they got bitchy if they thought you were looking (well, except Santana), here it was completely legit. It was kinda the point, even.  
  
What? Even if he probably wasn't going to sleep with any of them, he was allowed to admire their...dancing. Why else would they wear those skirts?  
  
He looked away long enough to glance around the bleachers, survey his kingdom. The team was all up front and center (in jerseys but no pads), so he had to kind of crane his neck around to see anyone. For the most part people were watching - or didn't give a shit and were mocking, but those were mostly the AV-club losers anyway and a couple annoying hipster kids he wished he'd thought to beat up on more before Kurt made him stop.  
  
Technically Kurt hadn't  _made_  him stop. He stopped on his own. But figuring out it didn't just hurt Kurt's status when he used to harass him kinda made him feel guilty over it. Still. Some people just freaking needed it.  
  
There weren't many people in glee club who weren't in Cheerios or on the team anymore, but they were sitting together - except Rachel who looked kind of lonely off to herself. After what she said about Kurt, Puck didn't feel too bad for her. Tina, Mercedes, and Blaine were a couple sections over but near the front-ish. Mercedes was talking, probably giving Blaine war stories about her time on the squad, and Blaine...  
  
Blaine was staring at Kurt like he'd never seen anything so impressive - or so hot.  
  
 _You could travel the world  
But nothing comes close to the golden coast  
Once you party with us  
You'll be falling in love  
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh_  
  
If Blaine had to pick what it was that undid him, he couldn't have named just one thing. After all, he had seen Kurt in his uniform before - the guy had been wearing it for much of the previous week, so there had already been plenty of opportunity to notice just how nicely those red pants hugged his ass (among other things in a way that bordered on both intimidating and downright obscene). He had already borne witness to the way the ensemble made Kurt strut like he owned any room he walked into, and even if he much preferred Kurt open and happy and laughing and like they had been at Dalton...there was something incredibly sexy about the "You know you want to be me" personae Kurt adopted whenever he pulled on that uniform top.  
  
So it wasn't just about the uniform.  
  
And obviously he'd seen (and heard) Kurt sing before, so that wasn't it. It wasn't about the song itself, either, because as much as he liked to tease Kurt with Katy Perry music because he liked the playful arguments over which songstress was better, he wasn't  _that_  much of an obsessive fan that the song alone would do it - this was one of his less-favourites, actually.   
  
Maybe it was the dancing.  
  
First of all, who knew Kurt could drop to an open-kneed squat that quickly? He could assume Puck did - which did nothing to tame his initial 'ohholyfuck' reaction as his mind went straight for the gutter.  
  
Second of all, since when did Kurt - who looked awkward doing a step-touch in time with a bunch of other incredibly geeky, proudly-preppy boys - move like that? He looked...not  _graceful_ , that would be too kind, but far more in control of his limbs than Blaine would have expected. And definitely better at matching the limbs with the singing and the kind of flirty expression on his face. Kurt was still not a dancer like some of those Cheerios, but he didn't look nearly as out of place as Blaine thought even based on watching parts of practices every now and again.  
  
Was it really all stage presence? He knew Kurt knew how to work an auditorium - he'd proven that when he'd come alive during his audition, but this was an entirely different animal. He went from slightly-spazzy to downright  _hot_. Like, need to go take a cold shower now kind of hot. A very,  _very_  long cold shower.  
  
"Down boy," Mercedes teased, and he casually glanced down to make sure she didn't mean literally - no, thank god. But if Kurt did anything even remotely flirty on the line about licking popsicles, that would probable change embarrassingly quickly.  
  
 _California girls 're unforgettable  
Daisy dukes, bikinis on top  
Sunkissed skin so hot it'll melt your popsicle  
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh, Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh_  
  
Kurt wasn't sure entirely how to feel about changing the lyrics on the chorus. On one hand, it wasn't like everyone didn't know what the real words were and that the song was originally sung by a girl, so anyone who wanted to hear 'we're' instead of 'are' was going to anyway. But at the same time, while he personally had no problem creating distance between himself and the subjects of the song - not only was he not a girl, none of them were from California, he reasoned - Sue had declared that he would sing the lyrics halfway in between, or she would demonstrate exactly what she meant by 'in between' by shaving half his head and using the remains of his one-gorgeous hair as glue-in extensions for the portion still growing from his scalp. He decided to pass on that.  
  
Still, it felt good to be back.  
  
He found Puck easily enough - the entire team was sitting together dead-center, and there was only one guy with a stripe of black hair and a trademark 'I'm too cool for this shit' expression. He was staring intently past Kurt - that figured. Kurt didn't have to turn around to guess who was dancing there. Probably Santana, possibly Brittany, possibly-...actually, it could've  _really_  been any of them.  
  
Kurt supposed he couldn't fault Puck too much. Even if the relationship was closed, which it wasn't, both of them would still look at other people. He felt kind of like Puck almost got more liberty if they were exclusive - after all, he would be a guy who predominantly liked sleeping with girls but who was only getting sex with a guy...even if that did make him feel like he would be cheating Puck out of something, which he didn't genuinely believe.  
  
It was moot anyway. They weren't exclusive, he'd spent several afternoons making out with Blaine this week...and Puck knew and hadn't said anything. Meaning he really didn't get to complain about Puck checking out Santana's ass.  
  
It just would have been nice to have Puck  _also_  checking out  _his_  ass.  
  
Finding the rest of his friends took a little more work, but they were all together. Tina, Mercedes, and Blaine, right there near the front. He realized Blaine hadn't seen the Cheerios in action before, but still the look on his face was a little much - this was a decent routine, but nowhere near as over-the-top as some of them had been. It didn't really warrant that kind of gobsmacked 'Am I in a dream now? If so, don't wake me!' expression-  
  
...wait.  
  
Was that look for  _him_?  
  
No, he chastised himself. That was incredibly conceited and kind of stupid and surely the look was just over appreciation of the dance moves being done to unobtainably-perfect Sue Sylvester standards.  
  
 _California girls 're undeniable  
Fine, fresh, fierce, got it on lock  
West coast represent, now put your hands up  
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh, Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh_  
  
He watched as Blaine's eyes followed him- first during the crank-up/elbow-out/crank-down move on "Fine, fresh, fierce" that came with a natural kind of hip-pop that tended to make him feel a little ridiculous. Then during the kind of pelvic-roll move that mimicked what the rest of the squad was doing behind him. And when he moved into the center, then back out front, Blaine's eyes were practically  _glued_  on him.  
  
It wasn't even just that Blaine was watching him so closely - it was the intensity of it all. This wasn't an idle "Hey, you're my favourite, so I'm watching you". This was an almost half-lidded "That's one hot porn" look, which almost made Kurt choke on his own tongue to realize. He managed not to choke on the lyric,thankfully, because Sue would have killed him, but he was sure the shock still read all over his face.  
  
Obviously he knew that Blaine found him at least reasonably attractive - he was pursuing him, after all - and that he was up to Puck's beauty standards for potential paramours which were generally at least a little high if a person didn't account for age, but that...  
  
That was  _not_  a look that he got. That was a look guys like Puck got. Sam. Mike in particular fetishizing contexts. Even  _Finn_  didn't get that look - he got the swooning "He's dreamy" look, not the "I want to jump you right now" look Blaine was giving him. With an added side of "Where did you learn to do that?" that indicated he was clearly impressed by the performance as a whole.  
  
It made him feel like...well, like he had during the infamous Britney Spears Sex Riot of 2010. Only this time, instead of his thunder being stolen by a creeper-teacher bent on winning back his own exgirlfriend by being considered sexy by a couple hundred teenage girls...this was just him. Blaine wasn't looking at anyone else, not even 'everyone else plus Kurt.' He was looking  _only_  at him.  
  
Like he was the only guy in the world.   
  
Not quite - that horny look when someone was the only guy in the world would make much more sense, he thought. More like he was the only guy in the world  _that Blaine wanted._  
  
The thought gave him this unexplainable surge of energy, made him want to kick higher, strut harder, sing better...and all while looking Blaine right back in the eye.  
  
Apparently Puck had been rubbing off on him, he guessed, because he couldn't come up with any other reason he felt the sudden urge to be this... _flirty_. Maybe because it was kind of the first time it had come up - not like anyone had really looked at him like that before.  
  
He'd looked at Blaine like that before - kind of. A lot more giggly about it and kind of embarrassed about it, with plenty of "ohmygod" eye-rolling...and Blaine had responded by doing his own little showing-off thing. Okay. So that  _was_  how this was supposed to work. He didn't have to feel quite so guilty or skeevy or like he must be sex-crazed about feeling this way.  
  
Or about liking the feeling. Because he liked it a fucking lot, if he was being honest.  
  
 _Sex on the beach  
Don't mind sand in our stilettos  
We freak in my jeep  
Snoop Doggy Dog on the stereo_  
  
Kurt singing about sex - now  _that_  was more like it, Puck concluded. Though he wasn't sure he dug his boyfriend in stilettos. Santana, sure. Quinn maybe, even if they looked a little too sexpot for her with her whole 'I'm such a sweet girl' thing going. Kurt would look ridiculous, and even though he  _could_  walk in heels - those weird Gaga shoes proved that - he would look funny.  
  
But fucking in the jeep? That was hot. Especially when Kurt licked his lips like that between lines.  
  
Until he realized who Kurt was licking his lips  _at_.  
  
Motherfuckingseriously?  
  
The look Blaine had been giving Kurt earlier in the song had been reciprocated, escalated, and was now floating somewhere just beyond eye-fucking and almost to 'Let's just do it in the middle of the M on the gymnasium floor.'  
  
He didn't get the way they were looking at each other. Blaine was staring at Kurt like-...well, like he would stare at Santana. Santana, with those great hips and the new boobs and the hair...Santana was hot and she knew it. Kurt was... _Kurt_.  
  
Don't get him wrong, he liked seeing Kurt naked - and he definitely liked the things Kurt did while naked, from the way he remembered every pleasure-point in the entire neck and chest area, to the little noises he made when he was trying not to come yet. But if someone asked him to pick the five hottest people in school, Kurt wasn't going to be on that list.  
  
No offense or anything. It didn't mean he didn't love him or anything. Just, y'know, being real about it. Even if he did hot things...Kurt was cute, he was awesome, he was someone Puck wanted to spend time with outside the bedroom - but adding in sex was always a plus.   
  
(He'd never had that combination before. It was weird, liking someone as a person more than just for the sex part, but he was kind of getting used to it.)  
  
Blaine looked at Kurt like Kurt rocked his world just by walking into the room.  
  
Was this some weird gay thing? Like, in gay minds, Kurt was hotter than hot? Cause if that was the case, he was fucking screwed. He loved Kurt, but he was still into looking at girls; Blaine was into guys and from the looks of it just into  _Kurt_.  
  
May as well give up now. Especially since Kurt looked like he wouldn't turn down anything Blaine wanted to give him. It was only a matter of time - and judging by the way their eyes never left each other, that time was gonna be about four minutes.  
  
 _You could travel the world  
But nothing comes close to the golden coast  
Once you party with us  
You'll be falling in love  
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh_  
  
He realized something suddenly:  
  
No one takes from Puckzilla.  
  
No, seriously - no one  _takes_  from Puckzilla. Puckzilla lets things go when he's good and ready to, or when the person wants him to let go. He wasn't a jackass, he wasn't gonna tell Quinn she couldn't leave or anything, but...Sam hadn't  _stolen_  her. He'd let her go first, then she went to Sam. It was a big fucking different.  
  
This Blaine kid wasn't gonna steal Kurt away, either. Not if he had anything to say about it.  
  
This was serious. Sure, the guy had acted all honourable, coming to ask if he could date Kurt and shit, but this wasn't some gentlemen's club with bowties and cigars. This was WWE Throwdown-style dating, and he would crack a chair over the guy's head if he had to. This was fucking  _war_. It was fight club with a lot higher stakes than just the face and the ego.  
  
Kurt may not have been one of the physically hottest people in the world, but he was deep now. He cared about stuff besides that. Like how Kurt complained about calories in slushies but would drink a diet soda once he knew it wasn't gonna be chucked at his head. Like how his dad held his hand at his mom's funeral. Like how the one and only time he didn't answer his phone was Friday nights, which was kinda cool 'cause it was like an honourary Shabbat or something. He cared about knowing that stuff.  
  
He'd never cared about actually knowing anything about the other person before. Mercedes kinda forced him to, she yelled at him, but he didn't really  _care_. He just pretended to be listening so he could mack on her later. And he didn't really listen to Quinn, either - not the way Sam listened to her, he got that now.   
  
Not like he wanted to just sit around and talk about feelings with Kurt or anything. He was still a dude - he had needs. And so did Kurt.   
  
But those needs did not include some snot-faced prep-school punk with a ridiculous grin.  
  
He just needed to make sure Kurt knew that.  
  
It wasn't gonna be easy. The guy had some skills - he could sing, and he knew about all the stuff Kurt liked, and from the looks of it on his couch (on his fucking couch!), the guy wasn't a complete novice when it came to making out even though he didn't have anywhere near Puckasawrus-level expertise. Probably didn't have many dudes to practice on. And even if  _he_  thought the guy looked kinda like one of those creatures from the neverending movie Sam kept watching with the gay midgets on the mountain with the ring...obviously Kurt didn't think so.  
  
He was gonna need to step up his game. Pull out all the stops. Go totally hardcore on his ass.  
  
No way was that guy gonna steal Kurt away from him. No fucking way was he gonna stand by while that happened.  
  
 _California girls 're unforgettable  
Daisy dukes, bikinis on top  
Sunkissed skin so hot it'll melt your popsicle  
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh, Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh  
California girls 're undeniable  
Fine, fresh, fierce, got it on lock  
West coast represent, now put your hands up  
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh, Oh, Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!_  
  
The song ended with thunderous applause and plenty of cheers and catcalls to the girls. Apparently ridiculous blue wigs were no deterrent to horny teenage boys, Kurt thought with an arched judgmental eyebrow. The sarcastic reflex, though, was fleeting.  
  
He felt incredible.  
  
The entire student body cheering for him - didn't matter of technically it was for the two-dozen girls in skirts that clearly showed their spandex-clad asses whenever they moved. He was the lead - the  _only_  lead - and had rocked the song. Nailed it.   
  
He'd forgotten this sensation, the rush of adrenaline that came from knowing he'd just brought an entire room to its feet - he, one person, single-handedly. It was a feeling he hadn't gotten since Nationals the previous year; he didn't realize how much he'd missed it.  
  
He wasn't Rachel, the spotlight wasn't the only thing important to him. There were some things more important than being a star, and he would sacrifice this if ever his father needed him to...but barring that, he wasn't going to turn down any chance to feel this way if he didn't have to. This rush, this sensation of being on top of the world? Who  _wouldn't_  chase this?  
  
As the students poured off the bleachers towards the gymnasium doors, he flipped up his facial mic and went in search of Mercedes, Tina...and Blaine, he would admit it. What? Why wouldn't someone want to chase that look, too? The one Blaine had been giving him, like he was attractive instead of awkward, like he was some hot guy instead of a twelve-year-old milkmaid? That felt almost better in a strange way than the rush of an incredible performance. He  _knew_  it was directed at him, not at the girls dancing behind him.   
  
Though he had gotten taller since his last assembly, he still wasn't quite tall enough to see over the rest of the student body - especially not to find his shorter classmates weaving their way through the crowded gym. Unable to see them from where he was, he moved towards the nearest exit - they would have to head that direction eventually, he reasoned, and there was less chance of missing them if he stayed in one place.   
  
A hand grabbed his arm suddenly and he let out a startled squawk as he felt his back hit the cool painted-brick wall of the gym. Puck's lips crashed down on his with a kind of harsh fervor that was usually reserved for the basement after like three afternoons in a row of no sex. Kurt tried to wrap his arms around Puck's back,but Puck's hands gently grasped each wrist and pinned him back against the wall as he pressed as completely against Kurt as he could - like he was trying to cover every possible inch of Kurt's skin with either the wall or himself. The flimsy polyester of the Cheerios uniform pants shifted against Puck's jeans, and he grinned - exactly the response he wanted, even if he could practically feel the blush rising in Kurt's cheeks.   
  
"Nice show," Puck whispered in his boyfriend's ear with a smirk, which widened further as Kurt's mouth fell open a little further to allow a ragged, needy breath escape. "See ya later," he added, nudging his hips against Kurt's which elicited an almost-whispered moan. He stepped back and offered a quirked eyebrow to Blaine as he strode confidently away.  
  
It was  _on_ , bitches.


End file.
